


You've Got to Love and Adore (And the Rest Is Awry)

by stelladelnordxd



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Not Really Character Death, Not really happy, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 01:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stelladelnordxd/pseuds/stelladelnordxd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been raining for two years. Two years, and when it stops, it's because of Sirius Black. Everything seems to be fixed, until Sirius learns one more person needs fixing -- his godson, Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've Got to Love and Adore (And the Rest Is Awry)

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the hp-drizzle prompt, "There have been storms that have dropped frogs or fish. This one drops a very alive Sirius along with an assortment of other lost things". The prompt actually ran away with me, but the fanfiction is something I'm actually really proud of! While reading, I highly~ suggest you listen to the album 'Night Visions' by Imagine Dragons, and then 'Nothing Left to Say' and 'Hear Me' nearer towards the end on a continuous loop to get the full affect ;)
> 
> Thanks to A., for listening to me complain and moan about the story, and then bug her to read all 10,000 words. Even when she didn't. Thanks to my beta, for actually reading all 10,000 words... I'm kidding, A. Kind of ;) Thanks to everyone else, for reading it now :)

Everything was blank.   
  
There was no color, there was no shade. There was no black, no white. There were definitely no thoughts in this space—this void of nothingness. Everything was floating, though. There was a haze—a haze that would never go away. Everything was transparent but everything was still quite dark. If one looked close enough, one could possibly see through the transparency. And within this nothingness, there were hundreds of thousands of bodies.   
  
Everywhere one looked, all one could see were transparent bodies, floating in a bed of nothing. Some bodies had been positioned in grotesque ways while other bodies had a slash of red somewhere along them. These bodies—most of them—were calm though. They were completely horizontal, their heads straight, with their eyes wide. They were looking for something, anything. Mostly though, they were looking for a way out of this void.   
  
Yet, they were aware that they were never going to be leaving this place that they were stuck in. And that’s why if someone were to look into the eyes of these bodies—providing that someone could come in and not become another body, and then leave again—they would see black eyes. Because the eyes, the windows to the soul, they knew the truth.   
  
Except for this one body. This particular body—ever since it arrived, had been doing everything it could think of to leave again. Its eyes weren't nearly as black as other eyes, and the body had some hope left, no matter how many times his friends told him otherwise. Many people knew that with this body --- this body just might be complete in leaving this void, and if it did—well, if it left the void, then so could the others, right?  
  


***  
 _A Year Later_  


  
  
For the past two years, things had been dark. For the past two years, things had been bleak. For the past two years, there was only rain. And it's not like the rain was a light drizzle. It's not like the rain ever stopped coming, either. For the past two years, the skies had been black or a dark grey, and the rain was a constant torrential downpour, never stopping, pausing or even clearing up. With the darkness, though, came no hope. No happiness. People all over Great Britain didn't smile for those two years, for anything to smile about had been gone. It had been gone the moment Lord Voldemort reigned over the Ministry—the moment Harry Potter no longer became himself. The rain, the loss of hope, happiness, the reign of Voldemort -- That all changed on the anniversary of Sirius Black's death.  
  
On this particular day, the rain hadn't stopped—that would've taken a miracle and if there's one thing Sirius Black is not, it's a miracle. But the skies had lightened considerably, and the rain wasn't soaking everyone and everything through within seconds. And that within itself was something miraculous. And while the rain hadn't stopped, some people looked on in surprise, recognizing that small flicker of hope come back into their eyes.  
  
It happened on an early afternoon, and it happened in the middle of Diagon Alley, where many people were busy buying new school supplies for the coming up year. After all, the new school year started just tomorrow, and when things had gone to shit, Voldemort had made it a rule.  
  
Those willing enough to risk going back to  _Hogwarts_  under his command, were willing enough to do all of their school shopping the day before they left. Not many people were happy with the fact, but everyone knew that there was absolutely nothing they could do about it, so they stuck to their wills and let Voldemort have his way. Of course, letting Voldemort have his way was their first mistake.  
  
A few people questioned it—Where was Harry Potter? Why was he not doing anything? Why hadn't they even seen him abroad the Hogwarts Express these past two years. Everything was asked, and nothing was answered.   
  
Only those closest to him knew the answers, and those people—well, they knew they shouldn't mention it in front of other people. Harry would get better, they knew it. It would just take a lot of time.  
  
The rain eased up, and only a few people remarked. However, everyone soon noticed something strange was happening. When they looked up and saw something long and black falling out of the sky, knowing that nothing long and black should be falling out of the sky, especially during rain. They continued to look on in confusion and concentration, unable to understand what was going on.   
  
Within moments—mouths were open in surprise and people were gasping. A few people let out a scream, not remembering that the man barely standing in front of them was pardoned for all of his crimes.  
  
The crowd panicked.   
  
Sirius Black stood in front of the crowd—the panicking crowd—terrified himself. He was lucky that Remus Lupin was in Diagon Alley and he was soon salvaged.  
  
"Sirius?" Remus whispers, continuing to walk ahead hesitantly, pausing every few seconds to stare and make sure what he was experiencing was real. He knew he was going to have to send a Patronus to the Order, and that he was going to have to do it soon, but he was still in shock.   
  
Sirius Black was dead. There should be no reason for him to fall from the sky, groan, and start moving slowly as a way to stand up. In the back of his mind, Remus could still hear people screaming and shouting and telling him to get away but he couldn't. Remus needed to know what was going on, and he knew running away would be of no help for him.  
  
"Sirius?" He repeats, louder this time, stepping right up to his friend's side and gently prodding him with his booted toes. He hears his friend groan again and he kneels down.  
  
"Sirius," He repeats again, more confident this time, trying not to let out a smile, "Padfoot, speak to me," He says, getting his wand out just in case it's a trap.  
  
"Re—" He hears, and he can't help but move forward some more, needing to hear his full name.  
  
"C'mon, Pad," he mutters, prodding Sirius once more. He watches as Sirius lays on his back instead of his stomach and feels his own stomach flutter, unsure if it's because he's happy or nervous.   
  
"Why are you here, Pad?" Remus questions. “ _How_  are you here?” After he asks, he moves his wand in a familiar motion and whispers a few words, watching as his Patronus flies away.  
  
"Remus…" He hears, and he looks at Sirius quickly, his eyes wide, having not expected to hear his best friend say anything, let alone his name. He stares at his best friend, tries not to jump up and down like a little girl in excitement. Remus can't help but notice a few things about his best friend though—like how his hair is much longer, darker. Sirius was scrawnier too. His hair wasn't as horribly greasy as it was when he escaped from Azkaban, but it definitely looked like it was a day late in his washing. His clothing however—his clothing was impeccable, like he was going to a fancy dinner party.   
  
"Sirius, what are you doing here?" Remus questions once more, helping Sirius sit up when he notices his friend trying to do so. The two of them remain quiet, catching their thoughts and their breaths. Remus looks around, knowing that his Patronus should be arriving at the headquarters soon. And he knows he needs to get Sirius up if the Order can help them, knowing that it's required, so Sirius can get away freely.   
  
"How many—" Sirius begins, coughing before he can continue as Remus turns to look at his oldest friend. Remus worries for a minute, believing to see blood, but Sirius wipes his mouth clean before Remus can get a closer look.   
  
"Years, Moon. How many years?" Sirius groans, grasping his friend for balance, having stood up properly.  
  
"Two.” Remus still finds it hard to believe. Is he back for good?   
  
"Sirius," Remus says once more, sharper this time. Sirius looks up at him, smiles slightly.  
  
"Where's my godson, Remus?"  
  


***

  
  
The two of them managed to get out of Diagon Alley rather quickly for the commotion that was occurring. Many of the people that were screaming had finally stopped, remembering that Sirius Black was actually innocent of his crimes. Of course, there were a few that were still frightened, but managed to quell their fear slightly, letting Remus and Sirius pass along their way.   
  
Since balancing Sirius, Remus had yet to hear back from his Patronus, making him more worried than before, and there were still a few people that stared at the duo. Remus sighed and shook his head, looking over at Sirius, not surprised at all when he saw Sirius looking back at him.  
  
"Where's Harry, Remus?" Sirius mutters. Remus looks away, taking a deep breath before looking back at Sirius with wide eyes.  
  
"He's –"  
  
"Remus," Sirius snarls, stopping the duo of them as Remus is reminded of Sirius animagus form.   
  
"It's not that easy, mate." Remus mutters, shaking his head. He tries to continue walking, only to be pulled back by Sirius, who is glaring at him.   
  
"Sirius," Remus sighs, shaking his head.  
  
"Remus," Sirius growls, clenching his fists, having had let go of Remus' coat. Remus can tell that Sirius is getting tired of the charade that his friend just wants to know where his godson is, that Harry's alright. He can tell through the set of Sirius' lips, how they're white and thinly together. His eyes are squinted and nearly blackened in his worry. Remus sighs once more, turning towards Sirius.  
  
"When you died, Sirius, Harry—he was out of control…" Remus begins, trailing off slightly as he remembers.  
  
 _The loud screams of Harry can be heard echoing through Remus' delicate ears, causing the older man to grimace in a slight amount of pain. Except Remus isn't paying any attention to Harry right now, as his best friend, the only friend he had left, was gone. Sirius was gone, and Remus had no one.  
  
He wasn't paying attention.  
  
He should've been paying attention.  
  
"REMUS!" He hears, and he looks over to his left side, still completely numb over the loss of his best friend, his brother in all but blood.  
  
"Sirius," He mumbles, stepping backwards slightly.  
  
"REMUS!" He hears once more, and he looks over once more. He's surprised to see Albus to the left of him, looking at him with wide eyes. He stops, blinks, looks around. He can't help but think of Sirius, before he hears what's being said to him.  
  
"Get Harry, Remus." He hears, and he looks, only to see Harry running straight towards the veil, straight to what Sirius—Remus stops, shaking his head before running towards Harry and grabbing him around his waist.  
  
He's surprised to find Harry fighting him. He tightens his grip however, and drags Harry away from the veil, knowing it is the one place Harry can't follow Sirius into.  
  
When Remus feels like he has dragged Harry far enough away from the veil, he loosens his hold slightly with a sigh of relief. Harry's safe, for once and Remus can go back to looking at the veil with repressed angst—he's allowed, his world has just ended. He's just lost the last of his best friends, the last Marauder.   
  
Remus is so caught up in his repressed angst he doesn't notice immediately that Harry has left his grip, doesn't realize that the cross of a young boy and an old man is running away from him, screaming and shouting bloody murder. When he does finally notice, it's almost too late; Harry's almost out the door, behind a cackling Bellatrix Lestrange.   
  
"Harry!" Remus shouts, even though he doesn't know why. Harry won't hear him, not with the distance between him. Remus pauses for a minute before deciding to run in the same direction as Harry, hoping to Merlin and all other Gods that the last Potter won't do anything drastic.  
  
He knows his hope is futile._  
  
Remus pauses in his story-telling here, unsure if he should continue, if Sirius is ready to hear the rest of the story. He looks briefly at his friend, who stopped shortly away from him, looking him up and down. Remus sighs, shakes his head.  
  
"You're not going to like it, Padfoot." He whispers, looking into the distance, remembering what went wrong. Remembering the flash of light, remembering how Harry crumpled to the floor. Something must be showing on his face though, because Sirius is in front of him, panicking.  
  
"Remus, don't tell me, please tell me my godson is still—Remus, please—" He hears, and he smiles sadly.  
  
"How about I continue telling you what happened," Remus mutters, walking again as Sirius follows hesitantly.  
  
 _He finally catches up with Harry—he can spot Harry dueling with Bellatrix, light after light flying by him. He sees a few green lights, a few red lights, and he knows he has to protect James' kid—Sirius' kid. Because even though Harry is a Potter through and through, he became a lot like Sirius. And Remus knows Sirius loves—loved—Harry like his own.  
  
When he finally turns the corner, he's almost blasted with a green light, the spell narrowly missing him. If it wasn't for Harry, he worries about how he would probably let the spell hit him. But he can't.   
  
He has to save Harry first.  
  
He shakes his head. He looks up from his feet, his eyes becoming wide. Bellatrix is laughing, her head thrown back and her hair flying everywhere. Harry is completely red, his eyes slit. He looks scared, and he doesn't look like himself.  
  
He doesn't seem like himself.  
  
"HARRY!" Remus shouts despite the fact that it goes unheard across the room. He doesn't know where to begin, what to do to stop Harry from whatever is being planned. He doesn't even know what Sirius would've done, or where anyone else.   
  
Did anyone see the two of them come out here? His concentration is broken though—everything is broken, though—when he hears Harry scream.  
  
Harry doesn't scream. Not like that. But then again, Sirius did just die, and Harry is alone. He can't even count himself. How could he, he was never there for James' son. Lily's son.   
  
The son of the Marauder's. He has a faint smile at that memory before shaking his head.  
  
It's then when he sees it. Hears it. A light shooting out of Harry's wand—the light that matches  _Crucio_. It's powerful, of course it is. Harry's angry, and while it won't affect anyone well enough to hurt them—probably tickle them at most—Harry being angry puts in a lot of power to the spell.  
  
"HARRY!" He shouts, unsure if Harry will even notice.  
  
Probably not, he thinks silently.   
  
He doesn't know what to do anymore.  
  
"What should I do, Padfoot?" He wonders, shaking his head as a tear falls down his cheek, as more fall down after that.   
  
He can't focus on Sirius, because he needs to focus on Harry. But Harry is focused on Sirius—he's focused on getting his god-father back, Remus realizes, and his heart absolutely breaks for him. Harry didn't know his parents when they died—didn't know how much it hurt him as a baby.  
  
But Harry will be turning sixteen this summer. And Harry thought of Sirius as a father, despite never admitting it to anyone else. And Harry lost that one person, and probably blames himself, Remus thinks, looking at the young man with teary eyes.  
  
Fuck looking like a pussy.  
  
He just lost his best friend, and his best friend just lost the link to his godson. He's allowed to be weak right now.  
  
"YOU HAVE TO MEAN IT, POTTER." He hears, and he looks up, remembering where he is [that Sirius is gone, thanks]. Bellatrix is close to Harry—too close—and Harry's just standing there, letting her get closer with her wand up, a look of hatred on his face.  
  
"I dare you," Harry whispers, broken, absolute. Remus doesn't want to think about what that means but he knows it takes Bellatrix aback by the way she moves her body back slightly.  
  
"I killed Sirius Black," she taunts and Remus watches, amazed, as Harry clenches his wand before throwing it across the room.  
  
"Stop taunting me, you bitch. You have a prime opportunity to kill me, to end it all for good, so fucking do it already," He shouts and Remus knows—how could he not, he was thinking the same thing himself not just ten minutes ago, that Harry wants to die.   
  
He just wants to be with his godfather again._  
  
"Wait, wait," Sirius interrupts, eyes wide, "What the hell happens, Remus."  
  
"If you let me finish—"  
  
"No. Just tell me, Moony. Does Harry die?" Sirius questions, his voice trembling, his eyes still wide, his body shaking. Remus wonders—if he told Sirius the truth would he be able to handle it. Albus said death was just the next great adventure, but the state Harry's in—could Sirius handle something like that?  
  
 _"Harry, stop!" Remus hears from his left, and he knows without even looking that it's Albus. He feels himself let out a breath of relief. Finally, things can be settled.  
  
"You want me dead so much, then kill me already, Lestrange." Harry cries. Remus can't help but wonder how vulnerable he seems when he cries.  
  
Did Sirius ever see Harry cry? Ever hug him in comfort if he did? Remus blinks, shakes his head. He can't handle this right now. He turns around slowly, heads for the stairs back to the department.   
  
Albus will take good care of Harry [which, Remus supposes, is why he's a big chicken].  
  
It isn't until he's halfway up the stairs that he hears Albus shout, "NO!" and it causes him to stop dead. His heart is speeding up and he's suddenly running back down those stairs, flinging the door open, stopping as sudden as Harry falling to the ground.  
  
At least he assumes. Because Harry Is already on the ground, in a curled, fetal position, and he can't tell if the kid is breathing.  
  
Please be breathing, he thinks, before stepping closer.  
  
After that, everything just flies by. The days, the weeks, the months, the years.  
  
Remus stops paying attention._  
  


***

  
  
They're finally at Grimmauld Place, a crowd waiting for them just inside the door. Remus turns to look at Sirius' reaction to it, but he knows immediately that Sirius doesn't care.  
  
He just wants to see his godson. It's clear that many of the others have reached the same conclusion, as some of the people shift uncomfortably, playing with the hems of their clothing.  
  
Huh. He thought that was something only young Muggles did. He sighs, looking at Sirius again, shoving his hands in his pockets. They feel coarse—the pockets and his hands in the pockets. They feel empty and cold, and he shouldn't be surprised but he is.   
  
"Sirius –"  
  
"Where's Harry?" He mutters, looking at everyone, begging them to tell him what he wants to know with his eyes.  
  
"How far has Remus gone into –"  
  
"He ran down the stairs to see Harry on the ground, unsure if Harry was breathing," Sirius replies, blunt and angry. A few people nod their heads before the path through the doorway clears and Sirius steps in with a grimace.  
  
Nothing has really changed in the past years—they've been too busy trying to find a cure, a spell, a potion. Anything.  
  
"Someone better tell me what I want to know," Sirius says and Remus grimaces. It's a well-known rumor that Sirius is really angry when he shouts and screams but to be honest, the real danger comes when he's silent; calm; deadly.  
  
He's in your room, Remus thinks with a grimace. He doesn't know how Sirius is going to handle this.   
  
"Black—" Mad-Eye begins only to stop when Sirius turns to glare at his older mentor.  
  
"I just want to see my godson. It's why I came back," Sirius whispers. Remus nods.  
  
"Guys, I should handle this," Remus mutters and people nod their heads, dispersing almost immediately, thankful for the opportunity to leave.  
  
"Remus—" Sirius begins, stopping when he sees the look on Remus' face.  
  
"When I went down those stairs—Harry was breathing." Remus says with a smile, "The spell was a simple spell. Shouldn't have done any amount of large damage."  
  
"But what?" Sirius says, shifting, sitting on the bottom step of the staircase.  
  
"But, Harry never woke up. By all means he was breathing, and his brain had activity in it, thanks to Poppy's technology she managed to find for us," Remus says, looking away at last.  
  
"But no matter what anyone did, Harry never woke up. He had suicidal ideation after you died and Albus thinks—well, he thinks that Bellatrix –" Remus stops, gulping and looking away, trying not to let any more water fall from his eyes.  
  
"He thinks Harry put his own wand on himself," Remus finishes with a whisper, not wanting to say it in case it makes it true. He can tell Sirius is absolutely shocked and baffled.  
  
"But Bellatrix –"  
  
"Her wand was in her hand, at her side. The last spell shown on it I know I had seen—it was  _Crucio_." Remus says.  
  
"And Harry's wand? You said he chucked it across the room," Sirius mutters.  
  
"Yeah. Apparently, according to Albus, it came flying to him through his emotions and when he—well, you know the rumor. Wands break when wizards and witches do something like that," Remus finishes, shrugging. He knows it’s the wrong thing to do when he notices Sirius bare his teeth. He grimaces slightly, shaking his head.  
  
"Where is he?"  
  
"Your room. He's been there this whole time, all two years of it. He doesn't get better, doesn't get worse. It's like he's in a limbo of some sort." Remus sighs.  
  
"A coma," Sirius mutters before getting up and walking up the stairs.   
  
Remus knows not to follow him.  
  


***

  
  
**Day One  
  
** He's angry and he's hurt. He's so hurt, he doesn't know if he can handle something like this. All he feels is pain and all he sees is blackness but there's nothing else. He senses nothing else around him, and it's a scary thought. There's no smell, no noise. It's like he's all alone. Figuratively and literally, and he hates it.  
  
He hates being alone.  
  
 **Day Two  
  
** He's walking, but he doesn't know if he's walking anywhere important or if he's truly just staying still and thinks he's walking. Who knows with the void all around him—nothing has changed around him, he knows that for sure.   
  
Simply because it causes him to think, and thinking makes him remember. And he doesn't want to remember.  
  
 **Day Three  
  
** He feels pain ten times worse than he did the first day, he realizes. He doesn't know how he realizes this; he just knows that everything feels like he's on fire, burning with a thousand suns.  
  
He just wants to go home, wherever that is.  
  
 **Day Four  
  
** This is the day he feels the pain the most. It feels like his heart is going to shatter in a million pieces—like it hasn't already done that, he thinks, though he has no idea why that thought came to him. He feels like he just lost the last thing he had, and he shouldn't know what that feels like, not at his age.  
  
How old is he again, he wonders briefly before shrugging and continuing his never-ending walk.  
  
 **Day Five  
  
** He realizes he doesn't know his name on this day. He has an idea. Maybe it's Jerry or something similar, but he doesn't actually know it, like the endless other things he doesn't know (how old is he, is he a man or a woman, what are those things, why does he feel absolutely shattered, will he ever be normal, what is this stick, why is there light around him when he feels super emotional, where are his parents, why aren't they looking for him -- the list truly does go on for miles].  
  
Oddly enough, he knows that his previous sentence was quite the run-on.  
  
 **Day Six  
  
** On this day, he comes to no realization. He just continues walking. He feels cold now, though, and the pain is definitely still there.  
  
Maybe this is hell? But he doesn't know what this is, either.  
  
Everything is just words to him.  
  
 **Day Seven  
  
** This is the day that the most important realization comes along, hitting him like a freight train, which he thinks he knows what that is—it doesn't matter though, because there's only one thing that matters now.  
  
Sirius.  
  
 **Day Twenty-Five  
  
** He remembers more, now. He remembers his name is Harry. He remembers he is a wizard, and a famous one at that. He remembers he didn't want any of that. He remembers his parents are dead [but they still didn't come find him] and he remembers –  
  
He remembers killing himself.  
  
 **Day Twenty-Nine**  
  
To find Sirius. He should have made that more clearly.  
  
 **Day Forty**  
  
He's hungry but he's not. He's thirsty, but he's not. He has to piss, but he doesn't. His life makes no sense anymore.  
  
He hears, 'of course it doesn't, you killed yourself,' in his brain briefly before shaking his head and ignoring everything.  
  
 **Day Fifty-five  
  
** He thought he found Sirius a while ago. A bright flash of light circled him at one point, and he saw a man that was Sirius' height, and had dark hair like Sirius, but when he called Sirius' name, the man smiled sadly, shook his head and faded.  
  
Harry wishes he could fix whatever was wrong with the older man that wasn't Sirius.  
  
 **Day Eighty  
  
** It's been almost three months, he thinks.   
  
Time goes by so damn slowly, he thinks.  
  
Where is Sirius, he thinks.  
  
All he does is fucking think.  
  
 **Day One-hundred-and-ten  
  
** He's been crying for god-knows how long. He doesn't remember how old he is, but he does remember he's too old to be crying like a baby. He just feels  _so_ lost and alone. He doesn't know what to do, or where to go or if there's anyone even looking for him at that moment.  
  
He feels like he's just an entity of mass—nothing concrete but something all-together.  
  
He doesn't know what he thinks, just what he feels.  
  
And he feels like he wants a hug.  
  
 **Day One-hundred-and-twenty-five  
  
** He stopped crying the other day. He doesn't know what made him do it—all he knows is that something filtered through his arms wrapped around his face as he cried. He thinks maybe it was another light, another hope for  _Sirius_ , even though something in his head is telling him, 'No, not Sirius, although he is definitely missed by them, too."  
  
He doesn't know what it means. He just knows he needs Sirius, and that light is his only clue at the moment.  
  
 **Day Two-Hundred  
  
** Did you know two hundred days is a devils number. It's approximately six months and six days, apparently. Or maybe it was a 6th of 6 months. He doesn't remember. He just remembers dividing two hundred by thirty once for fun and getting 6.66666666 and his Aunt Petunia telling him that that was the devils number and only freaks like him notice things like that.  
  
 **Day Two-Hundred-and-twelve  
  
** 212\. Still no Sirius. He can't help but wonder if Sirius is even here. But Sirius has to be here, because why else would he come here if Sirius wasn't here?  
  
"Why else would you kill yourself if Sirius wasn't here?" He hears, and he shrugs, before continuing onwards.  
  
 **Day Two-Hundred and-Thirteen  
  
** 213\. He remembers wearing glasses, but he notices he's not wearing glasses in this place.  
  
Maybe that's because everything is still black though. If everything is still black, then he has no reason to see and if he has no reason to see –  
  
 **Day Two-Hundred and Fourteen  
  
** But he does have a reason to see. He needs to be able to see Sirius, when he finds him. If he can't  _see,_ he can't find Sirius, and that's the most important part!  
  
He needs to be able to see Sirius because where would he be without Sirius he would be dead or worse he'd be alone and he can't be alone not during a time like this not when everyone is expecting everything of him he needs Sirius where is Sirius oh merlin why can't he find –  
  
"Breathe, kiddo, breathe," he hears in his ears and it takes a few moments but he finally stops seeing pink, and his heart finally stops feeling like it's going to explode out of his chest.  
  
"There you go,"  
  
 **Day two hundred and five  
  
** Why the hell did he go back ten days? He wonders briefly, thinking back to what he was doing. He doesn't remember.  
  
Do you?  
  
 **Day two hundred and twenty  
  
** His head hurts—his head's going to explode, he just knows it. His head is following his heart, and his heart exploded months ago.  
  
Seven point three, to be exact, but you probably don't give a shit.  
  
He would say he doesn’t either, but he thinks he does.  
  
 **Day Two hundred and forty  
  
** Eight months, give or a take. Eight months in some strange, black abyss and he still hasn't found Sirius. He still hasn't found out who Sirius is, either, but he feels like that's not important.  
  
The man in his head says it is kind of important.  
  
He's not listening to the man.  
  
Call it an act of rebellion, for some reason.  
  
 **Day Two hundred and sixty  
  
** Everything is going by so slowly. He feels like it's been a thousand years, but the man keeps telling him otherwise. Won't shut up about it, actually.  
  
He told the man he needs to get laid [he doesn't know where that came from either, don't worry] and the man just laughed. A full-blown, head tilted back laugh that made his whole body shake, but it was his face that was mesmerizing.  
  
His face lit up the whole room.  
  
Apparently he has that emotional light thing going on too.  
  
 **Day two hundred and sixty six  
  
** He won't stop asking about that light. He knows it's bugging the man, but he can't help it. He feels like he's five again and he just needs to ask all of the questions he can, but this time, he's actually  _allowed_ to ask questions without getting punched somewhere.  
  
The man shuts up and looks furious when he lets that slip.  
  
Oops.  
  
 **Day two hundred and seventy five  
  
** He doesn't know why the man won't leave him be. Surely the man has better things to do than hang around with some suicidal kid. The man just shakes his head when he asks him that.  
  
"Kid, there's nothing else I'd rather be doing."  
  
"Not even being with your wife?" The man mentioned his wife early on, back when he was just a voice in his head.  
  
"Kid, my wife's been with me this whole time," The man says with a smile, and he doesn't know how to respond to that.  
  
 **Day two hundred and eighty  
  
** The man has become a little clearer. He looks vaguely familiar, and nothing like what he imagined Sirius would like—but he acts like he knows Sirius quite well, and that's good enough for him.  
  
"Tell me some stories about the two of you?" He says with the innocence of the child and the man smiles, sitting them down, watching him, making him blush in embarrassment at possibly acting like a child.  
  
Who was he?  
  
 **Day three hundred  
  
** He knows there is sixty-five days until it's been a year in this place.  
  
He thought he would have found Sirius by now.  
  
He thought he would've been long gone.  
  
The man says he and his wife don't want him to leave.  
  
Maybe he'll bring them with him when he finally finds Sirius.  
  
 **Day three hundred and fifteen  
  
** He hasn't stopped shaking since day three hundred and one. He feels the man wrap his arms around his body, tell him everything is going to be okay, but he feels like that's one big lie. Everything still hurts—everything still feels like he's burning a thousand suns on his own body.  
  
It's not a fun thing to feel.  
  
 **Day Three hundred and twenty-seven  
  
** He thought he saw Sirius again. There was a bright light, there was pain, and he could've sworn he saw Sirius' face. The man next to him—his own face had become sad when he mentioned seeing Sirius in passing.  
  
He didn't want the man to become sad. He wanted the man happy.  
  
Maybe Sirius could make the two of them happy.  
  
 **Day three hundred and thirty  
  
** Maybe the three of them could be a family. He'd like that.  
  
 **Day three hundred and fifty-five  
  
** He can't remember some things, again. Whenever he tries to remember certain things about his life, everything goes blank, and all he'll see is blackness. He's tired of seeing the blackness. He'd rather see bright white, truthfully, because those flashes usually followed Sirius' face.  
  
And Sirius. Sirius was—what was Sirius, again?  
  
 **Day three hundred and sixty-three  
  
** Sirius was his god-father. He remembers that, now. And he remembers a bit more, too. He remembers everything about Sirius, really. He remembers Sirius offering him a home when he was free [but why when he was free? Why wasn't he free, again?] He remembers Sirius telling him stories about someone—about a group of people.  
  
Stories that made Sirius' face light up like a little kid on Christmas.   
  
Stories that made Sirius' face light up in a way his never did.  
  
 **Day three hundred and sixty-five  
  
** He doesn't know much right now. He remembers even less, currently. But if there's one thing he does know, simply by the pain he's been feeling in his heart, it's the fact that he's been in this void for one year. It's that Sirius has been gone for one year.   
  
He's been alone for three-hundred and sixty five days, and he just wants someone to hold him and tell him it's going to be okay.  
  
 **Day four-hundred  
  
** He doesn't remember how the days flew by. He doesn't want to know if he should remember. He hasn't seen Sirius recently.  
  
The man sticks by his side though, but his smile is becoming sadder and sadder. He thinks maybe the man is getting ready to leave him. He would understand, and he's told the man this exact thing.  
  
After all, everyone ends up leaving him, anyways.  
  
 **Day four-hundred and ten  
  
** For the first time in this place—he was scared. And for the first time ever, he was scared of this man. The man apologized. The man said he didn't mean to become scary. The man said it was because of the void. Said that the longer you're dead in it, the scarier become.  
  
Was he dead, then? If so, where was Sirius?  
  
The man became sad at that once again.  
  
"Please. I'm begging you. Stop talking about Sirius, kiddo."  
  
 **Day four hundred and fifteen  
  
** He hadn't mentioned Sirius once. He missed talking about Sirius...  
  
"It's the only way I remember him," He mutters sadly as the man sighs and holds him close.  
  
"Maybe you need to forget him, kiddo."  
  
 **Day four hundred and twenty-five  
  
** "No." He said, for the first time in ten days, surprising the man, who only smiled.  
  
 **Day four hundred and fifty  
  
** There's nothing left to say now. He's sorry, he's giving up now.   
  
 **Day four hundred and eighty  
  
** Those were his thoughts. When he killed himself.  
  
Yes, he can admit it. He killed himself.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"There's no world without Sirius in it," He says, shrugging and the man smiles again.  
  
"We really did pick a good choice for you, didn't we?"  
  
 **Day five-hundred  
  
** He's been sleeping all day. He's feverish, something he hasn't felt in a long time. Sometimes, he'll feel something on his forehead, even though the feeling doesn't make any sense to him. He tries to shrug the feelings off, but it doesn't always work.  
  
He wonders if he'll ever know why.  
  
 **Day six hundred  
  
** Things seem so different now. Everything around him seems foggy, and sometimes he feels like he'll grasp something in the forefront of his mind, but nothing will be there. The man who has always been with him fades every now and then.  
  
He doesn't know if he can take it.  
  
 **Day six hundred and twenty  
  
** Things haven't been getting better. Sometimes, he'll hear screams in his head and even outside of his head. He'll become sweaty, and he'll toss and turn with nowhere to go. He knows he's looking for Sirius, but it's been a year and a half, and there's still no sign of him. He doesn't know who he is, or what he's doing, or what's going on anymore.  
  
A large part of him just wants to give up. He feels like there's nothing left for him, that everything he's doing is completely pointless by now.  
  
He just wants his life back.  
  
 **Day six hundred and thirty-four  
  
** He's sitting next to the man, in a sea of red. He's not used to the red surrounding him, and it leaves him baffled, no idea where to go from where he is. He looks around himself, and can only feel confusion fogging up his brain. He wants to ask the man what's going on, where are they, but he's scared.  
  
He's not scared of the man. He's not even scared of where he is. He's scared of the meaning behind it. If he's in red, is he truly dead, or has something happened to him that he can't control anymore. Has something happened to the world that he cannot control?  
  
And that's when it hits him. He gave up control of helping his friends a long time ago, because he doesn't even remember his friends.  
  
He just remembers brief glimpses of Sirius. And not even that is good enough.  
  
 **Day six hundred and fifty-eight  
  
** The voices are back. He doesn't understand why they're back, especially since he thought he banished them for good. But they're back, and he can barely distinguish what they're saying. However, the man can, and he can tell it's not a good thing. And while it doesn't scare him—it does worry him.  
  
Especially since the man told him that if he's worried about anything, he's worried about him.  
  
 **Day six hundred and seventy nine  
  
** The man says he's getting sick. And it takes him a minute to realize the man means  _him_ not, the man. Did that make sense? He doesn't know anymore.  
  
"Man?" He starts, surprising himself as he feels like he hasn't spoken in forever. His vocal chords are raw, having been unused for the majority of the time he's been in this void. It surprises the man too, for he jumps in surprise, before putting his hand on his still-beating heart.  
  
"What's up, kiddo?"  
  
"What's your name?" He questions as the man smiles briefly before shaking his head.  
  
"Not yet, kid." He replies.   
  
He can't help but pout like a little kid not getting his way at that. But he knows the man will tell him eventually.  
  
 **Day six hundred and ninety nine  
  
** The man says it's been twenty days since he asked for his name. And it's been nineteen days since he started asking every day he could. Surprisingly, he can tell that his asking hasn't angered the man, but has puzzled him when he mentions this.  
  
"Why would I become angry?" He questions, hesitating ever so slightly to ask him, which is just confusing.  
  
"Every adult I've known gets angry at me at some point," He says with a shrug, remembering all of the times he's flinched or stepped back or felt a pounding in his veins where he was bruised. Almost as if he can read his thoughts, the man stops and looks at him with worry.  
  
"You never deserved any of that. You know that, right?" He mutters something, before nodding. The man smiles slightly, pulling him into a hug, which surprises him to say the least.  
  
 **Day seven hundred and five  
  
** He asks a different question today. He asks what his own name is, since he still cannot remember it. It surprises the man, but the grin on his face when he answers is wonderful enough.  
  
"Harry James Potter"  
  
 **Day seven hundred and fifteen  
  
** Something has caused a major change in the void. It's no longer completely black—in fact, it feels like the color is fading into a dark gray, and Harry can't help but wonder why. Sure, ever since he found out his name ten days ago, his memories have slowly been coming back. But he doesn't understand why the void is changing.  
  
 **Day seven hundred and twenty  
  
** "Why is it changing?" He asks the man one day as they're sitting on a park bench—which has been another change. The man smiles, though this time it's not sad. It's not happy either though, and Harry wishes it were happy.  
  
"Because, Harry. It means you're close to finding what you came here for." The man says with a small smile as Harry frowns.  
  
"That makes no sense. Sirius cannot be here. He's dead. He's in another void, because I'm dead. We're not in the same void." Harry mutters, eyes wide as he begins a panic attack. It takes a half hour and the man holding him to his chest before Harry calms down and falls asleep.  
  
 **Day seven hundred and twenty one  
  
** "You can't accept that you're dead, Harry." The man says out of the blue on this day. Harry looks up in surprise, noting how, even though he can't actually see the man, he can see the tears on his face.  
  
"Why not? I am dead."  
  
"For now." The man whispers before disappearing. Strangely enough, Harry feels completely alone, even though the void has changed completely to a sunny park with little kids running around having fun.  
  
He doesn't even envy those kids. In fact, he wishes the void would go back to darkness.  
  
 **Day seven hundred and twenty two  
  
** He still hasn't seen or heard from the man. He's seen flashes of red though, and he's seen flashes of black, sometimes even emerald. But there is no man, and Harry just sits on the park bench, wondering how his friends are.  
  
Do they miss him? Do they hate him for leaving them? Do they even understand why he did what they did, or will they resent him forever for leaving the world in the shape he left it in.  
  
Will Neville understand, when he realizes the kind of pressure Dumbledore will put on him since he killed himself?  
  
He hopes so.  
  
 **Day seven hundred and twenty-three  
  
** "Dad," He mutters, tossing and turning, thrashing on the park bench he fell asleep on. He doesn't even know why he's calling out for his dad—his dad's not here. Never was. His dad's in heaven, with Sirius, and the two of them probably hate him for what he did.  
  
But he can't apologize. He thought he was saving Sirius.  
  
He didn't know any better. How could he, when he was just a fifteen year old who lost his one father figure?  
  
His body temperature is high, and he can hear the voices again.  
  
He doesn't want to hear the voices anymore.  
  
He just wants to sleep forever.  
  
 **Day seven hundred and twenty four  
  
** The voices have become louder. They say things like pup and kiddo and awake and love. He can't handle the voices. They're just telling him false lies, and he can't handle this right now. He can't handle this at all. For some strange reason, the man is back. He's telling Harry that everything is going to be okay, and that everything will be over with soon.  
  
"I just want Sirius."  
  
"I know, kiddo."  
  
"Or my dad."  
  
"I know."  
  
"But they probably hate me."  
  
 **Day seven hundred and twenty-five  
  
** He's sleeping when he hears it. Not restfully, but not completely awake, either. It surprises him at first, but in the end, he chooses to shrug it off. It must be his fevered, deluded mind playing tricks on him, is all.  
  
"They could never hate you, my boy."  
  
 **Day seven hundred and twenty-six  
  
** "Hey man." He whispers, eyes wide and afraid. The man looks at him, putting his hand on Harry's forehead.  
  
"I'm dying, right? For good, I mean?"  
  
"No. You won't die, Harry." The man says, and for some strange reason, Harry actually believes him.  
  
 **Day seven hundred and twenty-seven  
  
** "Will you come with me?" Harry questions. He has no idea where he's going, no idea if anyone can even come with him. But despite all of that, he knows he wants this man with him.  
  
 **Day seven hundred and twenty-eight  
  
** His fever is back up. His whole body feels like he's on fire, and he can't handle the absolute pain he's in. The man keeps telling him that everything is going to be okay, that things will be over soon, but Harry can't help but feel the opposite of that is true.  
  
He feels like he's going straight into the depths of hell, with the devil laughing at him without a care in the world.  
  
He isn't surprised. It's what happens to people who commit suicide.   
  
He just wishes things could change.  
  
 **Day seven hundred and twenty-nine  
  
** He can't even think properly. He just knows that things are going to be ending soon. And he's accepted that.   
  
 **Day seven hundred and thirty  
  
** The blackness is back. The park is gone, and the pain is gone. Everything is gone, but the man, who is smiling at him sadly. Harry feels himself fading. He doesn't want to fade. The voices are back, quieter. They're interesting, and it makes Harry want to get up and walk away from this place for good, even though he doesn't want to leave for good. Not without the man.   
  
Even though the voice is telling him to come back, he still needs to ask.  
  
"Come with me?" He whispers, and the man starts crying openly.  
  
"I can't, Harry. I wish I—I can't." The man says, and Harry begins sobbing.  
  
"Why not?!"  
  
"You'll understand,"  
  
"Never."  
  
"Harry." The man says with a sigh, and the pain in his heart is back, only ten times more than before.  
  
"Harry, tell Sirius I—tell Sirius we miss him." The man says before completely fading.  
  


***

  
  
Sirius pats the cold wash cloth on his godson's face, sighing. It's been a week since he made it back to Grimmauld Place, and he can't help but lose hope slowly. He never thought he'd lose his godson, but it appears Harry has given up on his own, and it makes Sirius absolutely heart-broken. He just wants his godson to be awake, alive, and well.  
  
He's been doing this for a week, never leaving his godson's side, despite everything Remus has done to try and move him. He's Sirius Black, he's stubborn, and he did not go through the black veil for fucking nothing, god dammit.  
  
On the twelfth day of never leaving Harry's side, [day seven hundred and forty-two, thank you very much, a part of his mind says before he shakes his head in confusion] he hears a groan come from Harry's bed. He rushes over immediately, eyes wide, pulse fast and erratic.  
  
He hopes and prays to Merlin that Harry's okay, that Harry's finally waking up. He hears the door creak and turns slightly before shaking his head.  
  
"Not now, Moon," Sirius whispers, bouncing his leg. He's impatient, damn right, and he knows Remus isn't impressed, but he's waited for what feels like an eternity for his godson to wake up right the fuck now.  
  
He can't take the wait any longer, thank you very much.  
  
However, after fifteen minutes of staring at Harry, nothing happens and Sirius deflates, unsure of what to do.  
  


***

  
  
The next day, Sirius is right there next to Harry, eyes black from lack of sleep catching up with him. He rubs them tiredly before sitting next to Harry on his bed, resting his eyes slightly. He knows he can't fall asleep. Knows he has to be there for Harry when he wakes up.  
  


***

  
  
Sirius jolts awake, looking around the room frantically before realizing that nothing has changed except the colors of the room. Instead of the bright orange he was used to in the mornings; he saw a dark purple making the room glow, and recognizes that it's now night.  
  
"Fuck," he thinks, before shaking his head. He never meant to sleep, didn't even need to sleep. He had to stay awake for Harry, in case his godson needed him.  
  


***

  
  
_Who are you kidding, Black, Potter doesn't need you_ , he hears in his head before shaking it. His godson needs him, and fuck, he's going to be there for Harry. He's going to be there for Harry in the way that James and Lily expected him to be there when they died.  
  
He's not going to fail them again.   
  


***

  
  
"You know kiddo, a long time ago, I once told you a story that made you giggle like a baby yak." Sirius mentions one day, letting himself do anything to Harry, to show him he's there for him.  
  
"It was the story of how your mom asked your dad out, leaving him completely baffled." Sirius continues with a smile on his face, running his fingers through Harry's hair.  
  
"Would you like me to tell you again, kiddo?" Sirius questions, remaining quiet for a couple of minutes before nodding his head, believing that if Harry were awake, he would've said yes.  
  
"So, your father—he was in love with your mother for so long. Since first year, no doubt. He never admitted it of course, not until fifth year, at least." Sirius begins, his eyes bright with the memories coming back to him in flashes.  
  
"He would constantly ask your mother out—and in so many different ways too. Sometimes they were completely outlandish, things no one would ever agree to, and sometimes they were completely from the heart, things everyone should've agreed to. No matter what though, your mother would always turn him down, saying he was a spoilt brat who was an immature bully," Sirius chuckles, shaking his head.  
  
"And she was right, pup. Man, was she right. James told me once, on their wedding day, that he had so much growing up to do before he could handle Lily as his wife, let alone his girlfriend. And while I would never have let him known willingly, he was definitely right." Sirius chuckles, eyes turning sad, remembering that memory.  
  
"Anyways, the day your mother asked James out—he hadn't asked her out in months, to be honest. He hadn't given up on her, Merlin never would he give up on her. However, he knew he needed to grow up, and he was trying.   
  
Merlin, was he trying. Of course, it was easy, with his parents being killed that year." Sirius mumbles, shaking his head, trying to dislodge the tears that were going to fall. He takes in a deep breath, stroking Harry's thumb, trying to make his godson wake up.  
  
"Anyways, he hadn't asked your mom out in a couple of months and you could tell it was bugging her. It was something we all became used to, so to not see it happening was offsetting.  
  
Well, one day," Sirius chuckles, shaking his head.  
  
"One day, we walked into the great hall to see all of the professors dressed in pink—most of them didn't mind too much, knowing what was going on and wanting to see what happened. In fact, I imagine Minnie had a grin on her face the size of one Hagrid's pumpkins," Sirius laughs, eyes wide.  
  
"When we entered that great hall, we froze, wondering what was going on. We turned, and all of the Slytherins were somehow singing in Acapella.  
  
We had no idea what they were singing until much later." Sirius laughs, sighing.  
  
"If you're curious—they were singing lyrics that had to deal with, I'm sorry, you've grown, go out with me, Potter, and maybe you'll see under my gown,' Sirius snorts, shaking his head.  
  
"Admittedly, it wasn't one of Lily's bests—but getting the Snakes to sing it was hilarious enough. It took James a few minutes to figure out who it was from, and he only realized because Lily was tired of waiting for him to get a clue and walked up to him.' Sirius laughs, putting his arms behind his head, feigning relaxation as he watches Harry's eye movements.  
  
"She had gone right up to him pup, and had told him, ' _I think I love you Potter. So ask me out, and I promise I won't say no. Ask me to kiss you, and I promise I'll do one better. Ask me to marry you, and I'll probably give you my everything_." She had tears in her eyes, kiddo. James did too, because his dream was coming true, and he knew it wasn't easy for your mom." Sirius mutters, going silent after that.  
  
He didn't remember what came next, unfortunately, another side-effect of the Dementors that he couldn't control. It was a shame too, because he knew it was a good story.  
  


***

  
  
"You need to wake up, Pup." Sirius mumbles, days later, face down on Harry's bed, crying his eyes out. He would never let anyone see him this way, but he had so many emotions he needed to get out and this was the only way it could occur.  
  
"I love you, you know." Sirius mumbles, shaking his head. "And not once did I ever think you were your father, Harry." He says, rubbing his face tiredly.  
  
"I know I should be having this conversation with you awake—I get that. But I feel like you wouldn't listen to me say this to you kiddo. Not when you're awake. You'd push me aside; you'd tell me it didn't matter. But Harry, pup, I've gotten to know you these past two years. And you keep things hidden—things you shouldn't keep hidden." Sirius mumbles.  
  
"I know, because that's exactly how I used to be." Sirius says with a sigh, looking at Harry, praying he wakes up soon.  
  
"You're your own person, pup, and you're a person I am so proud of Harry. Nothing you could ever do, say, think or wonder about would change that. And you need to know that, Harry." Sirius says, unshed tears in his eyes.  
  
This isn't goodbye, he thinks briefly, sighing in defeat. Because if this was goodbye, that would mean he was giving up on his godson.  
  
"And I'm never giving up on you, Harry. I'm going to be here until the day you wake up or the day I die. Again. Whichever comes first. And I have no qualms about my death coming first, either." Sirius says, jumping out of his skin when he hears a reply.  
  
"You wouldn't, but I do." Harry groans and Sirius lets out a sob, putting his head down on Harry's leg, continuing to cry for a good ten minutes as Harry gets himself oriented.  
  
"Siri?" Harry mumbles, blinking himself awake. Sirius lifts his head up, eyes wide with tears and bright with happiness as Harry smiles lightly.  
  
"Siri, am I dead?" Harry questions while looking around the unfamiliar room, wanting to jump for finally finding his god-father. He hears Sirius snort, shaking his head and is absolutely confounded over why Sirius would be doing something like that.  
  
"Siri?" Harry questions once more, tilting his head slightly.  
  
"Harry, pup. You've basically been dead for more than two years," Sirius sobs, filled with happiness. Harry lets that soak in for a couple of minutes before looking at Sirius once more.  
  
"So—where—what's going on?"  
  
"Oh pup," Sirius chuckles, crying once more. "You tried to kill yourself, remember?" Sirius asks as Harry nods his head briefly.  
  
"Do you hate me for that?" He questions and Sirius melts at the tone of his godson's voice.  
  
"Never, pup. Never." Sirius replies, pulling Harry gently into a hug. After a couple of minutes, Harry returns the hug, putting his arms around Sirius's body, getting comfortable into the hug.   
  
He's happy to be with Sirius, but he still doesn't know what going on or what happened or why his heart still feels broken. And he wants to ask his god-father, but he's afraid that maybe Sirius will get the wrong reason out of it, and he doesn't want that at all. Doesn't understand that all.  
  
"Sirius?"   
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Does this mean I'm alive?" Harry questions while trying not to sound upset and utterly failing. Sirius pulls away from the hug and looks his godson over, seeing him for the first time since he died.  
  
"Yes, Harry. It means you're alive." Sirius responds as Harry slumps.  
  
"It also means I'm alive, pup." Sirius smiles lightly, watching as Harry let's that news sink in. When it finally does, he watches as Harry's eyes go wide and seek him out in surprise.  
  
"But—how?" Harry mumble and Sirius grins, shaking his head.  
  
"It's a long story. Maybe I'll tell you it one time." Sirius chuckles as Harry goes back in for another hug. They stay like that for what feels like hours before Harry pulls away and wipes his eyes.  
  
He's just about to go tell Sirius to get the others when he gets flashes of his memory while he was dead. He tilts his head and tries to catch everything he's seeing, tries to understand what exactly he is seeing. Noticing this, Sirius tilts his own head, wondering what's going on in Harry's mind.  
  
After a few minutes, Harry lets out a gentle sob before going back in for a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around his godfather.  
  
"Sirius?"  
  
"Yeah, pup?"  
  
"Dad says he misses you. A lot." Harry cries.  
  


***

  
_Maybe if I fall asleep, I won't breathe right  
Maybe if I leave tonight, I won't come back  
I said it before, I won't say it again  
Love is a game to you, it's not pretend  
Maybe if I fall asleep, I won't breathe right  
Can nobody hear me?  
I got a lot that's on my mind  
I cannot breathe  
Can you hear it, too?_

-Hear Me by Imagine Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> It will also be cross-posted to fanfiction dot net, if you prefer to read it there. Or favorite it, there. Thanks for reading!


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